


A Dare and A Date

by LuckyBossuet



Series: Dahlia Verse [5]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Chetta holds all the brain cells, Getting Together, Multi, Pining, a bit - Freeform, bahorel is nervous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:47:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27206836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyBossuet/pseuds/LuckyBossuet
Summary: "Bahorel is jealous.He’s jealous of Courfeyrac, of how easily Jehan lets Courfeyrac touch him, how Courfeyrac is allowed to pull the poet into his lap; Bahorel wants that too.Or maybe he’s jealous of Jehan, who can have those hands on them, on their arms, who gets kisses pressed to their temple when their school work builds up."Bahorel realises he has feelings, but what to do about them
Relationships: Bahorel/Courfeyrac/Jean Prouvaire
Series: Dahlia Verse [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784437
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	A Dare and A Date

**Author's Note:**

> This fic basically came from me and

Courfeyrac and Jehan have been together for nearly a year. Bahorel knows this, he was there when it happened, but recently, he’s been feeling differently around them.

Not in a bad way, just… different.

It’s not until Les Amis all go to the beach in the summer between second and third year of university that he realises why.

He can’t help noticing Jehan in the sun, and not only because their skin is so pale you’d blind yourself looking at them. No, he notices the freckles, almost as many as Feuilly, that are scattered down their back, spread across their chest and down, covered by swimming trunks before emerging on their legs. He also can’t help himself looking when Courfeyrac rubs suncream on Jehan’s back, before Courfeyrac gets his own back done in return. 

This is what makes Bahorel finally realise what the strange feeling in his stomach is.

Bahorel is jealous.

He’s jealous of Courfeyrac, of how easily Jehan lets Courfeyrac touch him, how Courfeyrac is allowed to pull the poet into his lap; Bahorel wants that too.

Or maybe he’s jealous of Jehan, who can have those hands on them, on their arms, who gets kisses pressed to their temple when their school work builds up.

Or maybe, Bahorel thinks, looking at Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta curled up together, functioning as one unit, he’s jealous of both of them. The thought of having one of them is wonderful, fantastic, even. But both of them…

He imagines leaning against Courfeyrac’s shoulder, watching a film, with Jehan across both their laps —Jehan is light enough it would barely make a difference apart from a comforting warmth.

He’s pulled from his thoughts when Courfeyrac apparently notices him looking and shouts, “Take a picture ‘Rel, or join us!”

Bahorel is very glad he doesn’t blush easily when he replies, “Nah, you’re fine, man. Just zoned out a minute.”

Jehan tilts their head to the side— just how adorable can they get? “We really wouldn’t object ‘Rel, if you wanted to?”

“Nah, I won’t intrude.” He smiles at them before turning. He finds Grantaire looking at him with the biggest smirk on his face.

“Shut it, R, or I’ll show Enjolras the chat.”

The smile doesn’t last long after that threat.

Perhaps, Bahorel thinks, he should have realised sooner, but in his defence, he only recently realised he’s into dudes (and non-women in general) through a series of nights involving three different clubs and varying amounts of clothing.

A similar night (everyone remained dressed this time, thankfully) leads to Bahorel lying on Joly’s sofa, Grantaire on the floor next to him and asking of their hosts, “So… how did you guys get together? All three of you?”

Bossuet looks up from where Musichetta is sticking a plaster on his ankle and laughs. Musichetta scolds him for moving before sighing and looking at Bahorel.

“The thing, hon, is we didn’t so much ‘ask each other out’ as realise we’d been dating for years beforehand. I’m surprised you didn’t ask before?” Musichetta smiles at Bossuet.

“Is there any particular reason you’re asking now, ‘Rel?” Bossuet is still laughing as he asks this, while Grantaire grumbles from the floor, apparently having fallen asleep.

Before Bahorel can think of an answer that  _ doesn’t _ immediately make it obvious why, Joly comes in and asks, “What is Baz asking about?” before settling down with a kiss from eir partners.

“Baz, over here,” Bossuet begins, “was wondering how we asked each other out.”

“Oh.,” Joly looks thoughtful for a moment. “Is this about Jehan and Courfeyrac?”

Bahorel looks at em.

“How— How did you—?”

“Combeferre is doing some psychology study about body language and affection and all the signs he told me about are there. If it helps, Ferre is fairly certain Courfeyrac and probably Jehan have a thing for you too.”

“I mean this in the most gender-neutral way possible.  _ Bro. _ Don’t mess with me.”

“I swear I’m not, I wouldn’t.”

Bahorel falls back onto the cushions.

“This can’t be my life. No. This can’t be real,” he says, to the room in general, the ceiling in particular. “This just, isn’t real.”

“Do…” Bossuet hesitates, “Do you not want them to like you back?”

Bahorel looks at him, deadpan.

“Of course I fucking do, but they— Why would they? I nearly dropped out of law school to start teaching boxing because I prefer settling things with fists than with words.”

“You’re making plans to open a boxing studio, Rel,” Joly points out. “That’s impressive.”

“I still—”

“Okay, that’s it,” Musichetta interrupts, nonplussed by the offended look on Bahorel’s face at his bemoaning being interrupted. “Don’t give me that look, Bahorel, you’re a grown man.” She gets a thoughtful look on her face. “I dare you to ask them out, on a proper date.”

Bahorel freezes, he knows he shouldn’t fall for this, he  _ knows _ . But, it’s a dare, and as everyone who has met Bahorel knows, he is completely incapable of refusing a dare. He makes it a point of pride that he always does them. He can’t just say  _ no _ .

“I hate you all,” he says.

“No, you don’t,” Grantaire mumbles from his place on the floor.

  
  


Bahorel is staring, he knows he is. He’d stop if he thought it would help him stop thinking about them in any way.

The meeting is ending with promises of emails clarifying meeting times and further reading as everyone splits into small groups to chat. Bahorel pulls his phone out and makes a new group.

##  **[Barrel, Courfeed Me and Poetree]**

**Barrel:** hey, can you two meet me round back i wanna ask something

**Poetree:** Of course

is everything okay?

**Courfeed Me:** sure, you alright?

**Barrel:** Yeah, im fine

Thanks

##  **[Barrel to DrWho, Unlucky Charms and Chetta]**

**Barrel:** i hate you all

**DrWho:** no, you don’t

**Unlucky Charms:** no u donut

*dont

**Chetta:** No, honey, you really don’t

Bahorel downs the last of his beer and heads out the back, throwing the bottle into the bin as he goes. He sees Courfeyrac and Jehan look at each other in confusion as they finish their conversations.

He’s full of nervous energy when they come out, bouncing on his toes like he’s about to start a match. 

They look so good under the stars.

Not that they don’t always look good to him; he once saw them first thing in the morning when the whole group was staying at Courfeyrac’s parent’s home the previous summer.. Jehan hadn’t been able to sleep so Courfeyrac had stayed up with them. Bahorel is in the habit of running first thing in the morning, so he had seen them huddled on the sofa, eyes bleary, Courfeyrac barely awake as he ran a hand through Jehan’s hair.

The lump in his throat should have made him realise sooner that he had feelings for the pair.

Shaking his head, Bahorel brings himself back to the present, where said pair is looking at him, clearly confused.

“Right. Er— shit, I didn’t think this’d be this hard,” Bahorel says, less to them than to himself, realising he doesn’t really have a plan here.

“Rel, dear are you okay? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” Jehan asks, concerned, as Courfeyrac puts a gentle hand on Bahorel’s shoulder.

Bahorel knows this is meant to be comforting, but the gesture breaks him a little more.

“I need to sit down.” Bahorel sinks down to the floor, Jehan and Coufeyrac follow and sit either side of him.

“What is it, Baz?” Courfeyrac bumps their shoulders together. “Is everything alright?”

Bahorel puts his head in his hands, tries not to scream, then emerges, saying in one breath, “IreallylikeyouguysnotjustoneofyoubothofyouandImeanromanticallyIwannagoondatesandshitwithbothofyou.” Then he buries his face again, feeling mildly pathetic.

_ I’m not usually like this, what is wrong with me. I’ve punched bigots the same size as me but I can’t tell two of the greatest people I know that I like them? _

“Hon, I caught none of that,” Jehan’s soft voice tells him as their hand rubs gently up and down his back.

“I really like you guys, both of you. As in, I wanna do romantic shit with you. I wasn’t gonna do anything about it but Chetta dared me—”

“Wait, Musichetta dared you to do this?” Courfeyrac looks hurt for a moment before the first half of the sentence seems to click. “Wait, you do? Both of us?”

“Yeah. It’s dumb, you two don’t—”

“I’ll thank you not to assume our feelings.” Jehan is staring dead into his eyes, defiant. “Why would you think it’s dumb?”

Bahorel rubs his hands together then shakes them, trying to get rid of the nervous energy building up.

“You two are so great and so good together, your whole thing works so well. Why would you risk messing it up, even if you did both like me and were both open to being in a relationship with multiple people? It doesn’t make sense.”

He feels an arm wrap around him —Courfeyrac’s, he realises. “Maybe because we both really like you? Because we both spent about an hour talking about how hot you are after the last one of your matches that we saw.”

“And maybe because we spent another hour after that saying how much we like your personality, and everything else about you?” Jehan is smiling now, as is Courfeyrac, the sort of smug smile that means they’ve won an argument.

“You—you’re serious?” Bahorel asks, then grins wide when he receives a kiss from them both, one on each cheek.

“Deadly,” Courfeyrac answers, removing his arm and standing up, arms out to pull Jehan and Bahorel up. “Well, my dears, we have learnt three very important facts here tonight. One, that Jehan and I like you, Bahorel. Two, that you like us back—”

“Very much,” Bahorel clarifies, because somehow,  _ somehow _ this is welcome.

“Hush a moment darling, and three, that we no longer need to be at this meeting.”

Jehan turns to Bahorel. “Do you have any ideas of what we should do now? We are three free young people with absolutely zero current plans but a new found partner.”

Bahorel nearly laughs, catching up with what the others are hinting. He makes a ridiculous bow, smiling when Jehan laughs at his dramatics, “My dear They-dy and Gentleman, would you both do me the pleasure of accompanying me on a date tonight? Our options are my apartment, one of your flats, or postponing to another day.”

“I thank you, kind Sir.” Jehan curtsies. “I would be most honoured to accept the invitation to your home, as would, I am sure, my companion.”

Courfeyrac looks like he wants to join in, but all he can do is laugh, take one of their hands in each of his. “We are going to be so good together.”


End file.
